


holding my breath in wonder

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Queer Character, Character Death Fix, Developing Relationship, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Pining, Post-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Whumptober2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 02:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: "Don't you have some schmoozing to do inside?"Eddie feels as if he's been running after Richie since they were kids. It's probably true.(Written as part of Whumptober2019 for the Day 7 alternate prompt "winded".)





	holding my breath in wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "New World" by Björk.
> 
> I'm currently very obsessed with Reddie. Come talk to me about it on [tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/).

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Back then, he always felt as if he was running on short legs (no growth spurt for years to come, and even that inadequate), running to keep up with Richie, all the time at least a couple of steps behind him, never close enough to get the joke or hold his hand or make him smile. Not that he knew that's what he wanted back then, however obvious it is now.

Memory is a funny thing.

First thing out of the hospital and back in New York, he makes a conscious effort not to pick up the phone and search for Richie's contact, his personal number Eddie got from an entirely too amused Mike. Not until his divorce is final. Not until he moves out and gets his own place. Not until he gets his shit together.

And then, once he's out of rational reasons, it's easy and almost normal to fret about calling, about showing up unannounced, about sending a desperate-sounding e-mail he can't take back. The easiest thing is telling himself Richie's straight and Eddie's the one projecting. He knows he's the one who's thinking and feeling things he shouldn't, not Richie. He remembers climbing into a tight hammock, and half-sitting in his lap in photobooths, and arguing incessantly when there was no point to it other than the few moments of attention.

But joke's on him because Richie's the one who seeks him out, what with Eddie being just enough of a dumbass to get himself a ticket to a show he's doing and drive himself to the East Village to sit at a table he can barely convince himself to touch with an overpriced vodka-sour in front of him while complete strangers brush past him and laugh at jokes Eddie is one hundred percent sure are actually written by Richie this time around.

How he spots Eddie after the show is beyond him. Like, his one evolutionary trait is that he's small and thus difficult to spot in a crowd, what the fuck.

When he catches up to him his smile is wide and he glances around them with some enthusiasm, obviously pleased, though Eddie's more than a little bemused.

"Dude! I so thought it was you. What are you doing here?"

Shit. He's never been a quick thinker when it comes to lying his ass off, and this moment in time is absolutely no exception.

Richie catches on. Of course he does.

His smile is soft. "Are you here to see me?"

Swallowing nervously, Eddie says, "Wanted to know what all the fuss was about. And, hey, you're doing your own stuff. Congratulations, I guess," he finishes kind of lamely.

Richie blinks. "Yeah, I sure am," he mutters, barely audible over the voice of the crowd.

There are a whole bunch of things Eddie could say next, like _hey, I sort of died in your arms before it turned out I didn't_, and _thanks for helping me kill an alien sewer clown_, or even _I never knew a bad "your mom" joke would be the best deflection_.

He goes with, "I got divorced," and promptly wants to bang his head against something.

"Congratulations?" Richie's eyes get big in an instant. "Shit, sorry, sorry. Shit." He looks lost for a moment. "I mean, that must suck. Like, regardless of—whatever."

"Yeah..." He doesn't quite know where this sentence can even go, so he trails off, looks into the club at people laughing and drinking and definitely not regretting _their_ decisions.

Richie sighs audibly. "I need a smoke." He leads the way outside and Eddie refrains from mentioning lung cancer while he follows him out into the street and around the corner to the entrance to a side alley that _mostly_ doesn't smell like urine.

Eyebrow quirked and a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth, Richie asks, "Install Tinder yet?"

"What the fuck?"

"Hey. I wanna help you out."

"Fuck you. I'm a grown-ass man."

"Yeah, no shit, dude. But, like, I mean it." He sounds less like he's making a joke at Eddie's expense now, or like he's making any joke at all. "You should get out there. You're a catch or whatever." He stares over Eddie's shoulder and takes a long drag.

Eddie opens and closes his mouth twice before saying, "Yeah?"

Earnest. "Yeah, for sure."

The pause is awkward then. Or maybe Eddie's the only one who thinks it's anything other than normal. He's not normal, so it figures he's reading into things.

"Listen," Richie starts, ashing his cigarette against the filthy alley wall, "I'm staying a week in New York doing some stuff for SNL. Pretty exciting, actually." Again, it strikes Eddie how goddamn earnest he sounds about it. "It's an intense schedule, but I've also got a lot of free time on my hands once it gets closer to showtime. Mostly in the evenings." He licks his lips distractedly. Eddie is equally distracted, to the point where he almost misses what he says next.

"You're what." His inflection doesn't convey how fucking confused he feels. Confused and panicking, because he could have sworn Richie's just said—

For the record, Richie looks both supremely embarrassed and increasingly anxious-looking.

"I said I was thinking we could also hang out."

Buddies hang out. Old childhood friends hang out. It's totally normal for him to say that, but. There's something. Something about the way he says it which has Eddie believing he doesn't mean it _quite_ like that.

"A week you said?" It's an answer to a question Richie only asked if Eddie is reading this right.

And it must be right, because Richie's head snaps back from where it was lolling on his neck awkwardly and he stares at Eddie with huge eyes behind his glasses. He swallows heavily before saying, "A whole week." And then, "I'm free right now, in fact."

Eddie doesn't ever move this fast. He's never had to move in on Richie Tozier, though.

This pesky doubt persists, however. "Don't you have some schmoozing to do inside?"

Richie bites his lip and his eyes skim Eddie's face, from his eyes to his lips and back. "Nope. You have me for the entire night."

No one could blame Eddie for blushing then.

He scoffs. "You always this much of a sweet-talker?" His head is spinning with the possibilities and the questions and the need to find the joke, however disappointed he might be afterwards.

But Richie's too serious by half when he says, "Only with you." He says it softly and leaves it at that.

And Eddie should call his bluff and take a cab home to his unfurnished apartment. But maybe Richie used to run, too.


End file.
